Fallen
by just call me Cappy
Summary: A Bloody Baron fic: What is his relation to the Grey Lady? And why does Peeves obey only him? What is his dark secret behind his bloody past?


Fallen By Caprigrrl 

[Author's Note: I've only read one Bloody Baron fic so far (which was written by Ayla Pascal and you can check it out at **http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=423518**), so I think I'll contribute one more story about this enigmatic specter. Like, Go, Bloody Baron! You da man! Or you _were_ da man. Whatever.

Told in the POV of the Baron.]

Disclaimer: Everything is a Copyright of J.K. Rowling-Murray (did I spell that right?) aka the Benevolent One. J.K, you rock. The story, however, is for all of you who actually noticed and took the time to read this. Sir Huntingdon belongs to me, though I wouldn't mind giving him away. Here goes nuffink.

*        *        *        *

Outside, the red sky was dimming into twilight. And still the enemy was pounding at our gates. I could hear their hoarse battle cries mingle with the screams of panicked horses.

The ringing sound of bursting cannons shook the foundations of the castle so much, the candles flickered and the faded stone walls trembled. The decorative swords hanging on the wall rattled in their scabbards. I tried to steady the table I was leaning on, but the candle spilled onto the table and the battle plans had slid to the floor.

"Peeves!" I yelled down the corridoor. "Where are you when you're needed? Peeves!"

The scrawny, thin squire came rushing down the hall, carrying a sheild held like a tray, upon which rode a sword in a black scabbard, leaning trecherously over the edge. It was my sword. The sheild the squire was carrying and the armour he had draped across his shoulders were mine.

He unloaded the battle-gear onto the table like he was unloading a sack of potatoes. Once my chainmail was safely off his shoulders I knocked him on the head with my dagger's blunt end.

"Foolish swine!" I snarled. Peeves cringed, to my satisfaction. "Do you _know_ how much a suit of chainmail costs? You could've broken it like crockery, the way you conduct yourself! You don't carry a sword and sheild like tea on a tray."

"Yes, sir."

"Were you trained to be a squire or a fool, Peeves? Pick up the parchment. And be careful not to spill ink on the map of escape routes."

I fitted the chainmail over my castle clothes. As I stared into the candle flames burning, I imagined hungry fires consuming the invading enemies' tents and war-weapons, flaming arrows darting trough the air streaking the twilight sky, shooting towards the scattering enemy soldiers like silver spears. I trtied to encourage myself. I had to defend my castle.

For a year the neighbouring lords had fought over my castle, my thriving fields and rich coffers of gold. They stained my lands and green fields with blood and ashes, quarelling over the right to fight me like cocks in the marketplace. One by one they were vanquished by each other, and only Sir Huntingdon stood victorious, standing at my gates with what was left with his army, challenging.

I wasn't sure if I could defeat him. My army fared better, of course, but Huntingdon's favourite tactic was espionage. He could have spies in the castle right now… but the only one who saw my battle plans and escape routes and maps was Peeves.

I stared at the squire. He held my sword and sheild like how they should be held… handing it towards me as I buckled my scabbard on.

Could I trust him? Could his loyalty be bought?

"Can I assist you in anything sir?"

And he was one of the few people that knew about my daughter Elaine. He knew where Elaine was sheltering from the battle.

Could I trust him, this village idiot? I hardly trusted him when he guarded the chicken coops, or as goatherd. I lost a week's worth of livestock whenever he watched over the sheep.

Yet I trusted him, so far.

How far could his loyalty stretch?

I narrowed my eyes when my mind crossed over to Elaine… and what would happen to her if I allowed this trecherous character ruin her future.

"Excuse me sir, but why are you staring at me like that?" His juvenile voice brought me back to reality.

"Nothing, Peeves. Hand me my sword. And get yourself into a decent suit of armour. You are following me onto the battlefeild, Peeves, and you shall not leave my sight."

He just stood there, staring.

"Well?" I snapped.

"You told me you didn't want me to leave your sight."

I snarled and gave my most devastating sneer. "Get out of here, fool! Meet me in the stables with my horse saddled and ready. Prepare a decent weapon."

Peeves rushed out, causing as much noise as a herd of stampeding horses as he ran down the coridoor. I gazed at my unsheathed sword, the flickering candle flames on the smooth metallic surface.

I could only think about Elaine.

Elaine was currently hiding in the cellars with her maidservant Morwenna, safe and untouched by the reflections of war. If there should be a strong, firm reason why I should save my castle, she was that reason. My darling Elaine. I shall not leave her a burning castle to govern over. For years I have kept her hidden from the squabbling lords, lest they ask for her hand in marriage and claiming half of my land. They never knew about my daughter.

I wanted to leave Elaine my whole territory to govern when I passed away. She was heir to my entire fortune, from the blossimg apple orchards she loved to climb through, to the glittering gold coffers in the underground vaults. I trust she would be a better Baroness than I was a Baron. I trusted her completely.

She would never have to see this war.

*        *        *

Peeves had two horses waiting; a chestnut brown steed for him, and of course my black war-horse Mephisto, fastest stallion in the territory. They stood waiting at the stable door. Peeves was dangling a carrot in front of the chesnut brown, urging it forward then hiding the carrot in his pack. I sighed when I noticed that instead of a sword or a dagger, Peeves had armed himself with his wand. The boy couldn't do magic to save his life. Not that I planned him to survive the battle anyway. 

I patted Mephisto's neck. "Don't fail me," I whispered into the horse's cocked ear. As if to answer me, Mephisto tossed his proud head and gave a severe snort. The twilight was slowly turning to night, and the moon was rising from her bed of distant hills and forest, illuminating the battlefeild in ethereal silver light. It would be a battle of silver-lined ghosts. Each dead soul would rise to the faraway, cold, blinking stars instead of the warm, welcoming sun.

"Mount your horse, Peeves. And stay directly behind me. Mind you don't fall off your saddle."

I didn't ask him to change his weapon, nor did I mention the wand. I had my own resting in its own scabbard. Magic was a risky element to use in battle, some would call it cheating, but I knew its strengths and weaknesses. Sir Huntingdon was a confirmed wizard, but so far he hadn't drawn his wand. Some say he was a Squib, unable to cast the most simple of spells and charms. I hoped the rumours were true.

We rode through a back, hidden wooden door that led to an underground tunnel. The brown horse neighed in slight panic at the sight of dark, but Mephisto was unnerved and marched forward. As we rode, I thought about emerging out of the tunnel, right outside the castle walls, and carry out my plan to assasinate Sir Huntingdon right in his own cosy tent. No one will see me in my Invisibility Cloak.

That night I thought about death. I thought about it a great deal.

Little did I know I was to die that night.

*        *        *        *

Lights.

There were lights at the end of the tunnel. I reined in Mephisto to a halt and stared closely at the flickering flames, distant pinpoints in the dark, listening closely for voices.

"Peeves," I whispered, keeping my voice as low as possible. Voices carried through tunnels. "Do you remember me ordering to place torches at the end of the tunnel?"

He shrugged and smiled happily, as if he couldn't care less. "I don't know, sir. Mayhap. But enemies would notice a hidden tunnel of it had lights at the end, sir." Sometimes he wasn't as dim-witted as he seemed.

I patted Peeves shoulder. "Hm. Yes."

Did he expect there to be lights? Or… did he place the lights there? Was this a trap set by him for Huntingdon to finish me off, would he draw his wand, or a dagger concealed in his cloak, once my back was turned?

"You go first, Peeves," he said, nudging his horse forward. "Get out there and scare them with your unbelievable sense of direction."

Peeves stared at the shreds of light and reluctantly clmped forward. I followed after him.

"Sir," Peeves whispered, rearing back slightly. "I think there are voices. I think we're trapped."

Of course.

"And who, Peeves, would give away the location of my tunnel? Who else knew where it was?"

He looked back at me. "It wasn't me, sir! I swear!"

"Who _else_ had access outside the castle?" I seethed. I must have looked particularly frightening, for Peeves was backing away from me, right towards the lights. "Running away to your new master now, eh?"

"No, sir! I have no new master. I have an old master, begging your pardon, you're not looking very old…"

"Trecherous swine!" I aimed at blow towards his face but he dodged it just in time. "I who have sheltered you in my own castle, taking you in, the forgotten orphan you were…"

"Yes sir! Thank you sir! I could never repay you for that, I could never betray you…"

"What do you think you're doing now, fool?" He didn't answer. The lights were getting closer now, and I could hear the sound of wary voices.

"It's too late now," I snarled. "I hope you lie fallen among Huntingdon's worms when I kill you all."

I started to slip on my Invisibility Cloak, but a silvery, ringing voice distracted me. The Cloak slid from my hands.

"Father!"

"Elaine?"

*        *        *        *

Huntingdon stood behind her, stony and uncompassionate in the moon and torchlight.

"Huntingdon!" I cried. "I don't know how you got to capture her, but I demand you release my daughter before I crush you before my horse's hooves."

"Father, please…"

"What has he done to you, Ella? I swear, if he touched but one hair on your head I'll grind his handsbetween the millstones…"

"Very understanding tonight, aren't we?" Huntingdon said coldly. I glared at him, rearing up. I was on a horse, he wasn't. I towered over him.

"Come here, Ella. He won't harm you."

Elaine didn't move. I raised my eyebrows. "Come _here_, Ella."

"N-no, Father. I'm sorry. I won't."

I stared.

"You see…" Ella extended her long, slender hands like she used to when explaining, like her mother used to do. Her silvery, moon-lined eyes gazed stright towards me, pleading. "I… I love Sir Huntingdon. I was the one who told him about the tunnel. I'm sorry, Father, but I have presumed… the war would come to an end this way."

Love? Did she just say love?

The world grew glazed before me, growing as black and thick as pitch. "What manner of enchantment is this?" I spat at Huntingdon. "What have you done to my daughter?"

"He wasn't done anything, Father," Elaine spoke up. "I came here by my own free will."

"Silence, girl! I wasn't speaking to you!"

She glared angrily at me. "How dare you speak to me like that, Father! For years you kept me locked up in a tower like a caged bird! It was tedious, staring from the highest windows and doing nothing but watch the couples gather in the spice gardens, when I knew I would never join them, I'd never be allowed to go free…

"Well. William here rescused me from that dreary life. It would save the kingdom, Father. It was end this pointless feud peacefully. We could put an end to this war. Please…" she stared pleadingly at me. "Please let me do this, Father."

Seeing her so beautiful and pleading brought a quiver of pain to my heart. I glanced at Huntingdon. He was staring at my daughter. He stared at her lovingly, protectively… as if he could offer her everything I never could.

Rage bubbled like angry hot liqiour inside my heart. My vision blurred… I could only think of one thing, one agenda, one way to defend my kingdom, my family: _Kill Huntingdon. Now._

With a furious cry a drew my sword.

Through Elaine's endless screams I hacked Huntingdon to the ground, till he lay bleeding, staring at me through aghast, shocked lifeless eyes, his still fresh blood splattered across my clothes. The blood soaked through the roabes, through the earth.

Elaine lay sobbing by her lover's bleeding arms. As I watched her tears slowly mingle with the blood in the grass, flowing as one, my rage slowly died inside me. My vision cleared. I only saw my sad, unhappy daughter crying and a man I had so brutally killed, the mocking moon shining, illuminating this scene… and a loyal servant standing next to his chesnut brown horse staring sadly, who I had wrongly accused before.

"Elaine," I whispered. "Forgive me."

She turned to stare at me.

I did nothing when she pulled out her wand.

I did nothing when she raised it toward me.

I did nothing when she muttered the killing curse under her breath, I said nothing to reply her furios, greaving eyes as she held on to her lover's dead, bleeding hands.

I did nothing when Peeves stood in the line of the spell.

"Fool!" she furiously cried at Peeves lifeless form that lay crumpled in the grass. "Let me kill him! _Let me kill him!_"

She pointed the wand towards me. This time she did not miss.

*        *        *        *

Death… death was like a shroud. Everything is a blurry, watery shadowy image.. everything is a mirage. Being a ghost was a torture, a painful yet beautiful experience… it was like slowly dying in a blizzard over and over again.

Peeves followed me after death, of course. The dim-witted but loyal servant. He found freedom in his phantasmal form and used it to its full advantage, while we sheltered in this castle school, Hogwarts. I was the only spirit he would obey. 

Elaine followed us too.

Days after she killed me, she took her own life with her own self-brewed poison. She was hoping to join her Huntingdon in the afterlife, hoping to keep him company and silence her grief… little did she know the heart of a murderer is not so easily spared.

Ethereal and sorrowfully beautiful as a spirit she was, christened the Grey Lady by the school staff.  She haunted the Ravenclaw Common room, talking rarely to students and enlightening them when they needed her. She avoided me. Eveyone did.

I only sat brooding in the dark Slytherin dungeons, where they left me alone in the green candleflame. Years passed. Mayhap I have forgotten about that night of the silver moon, but when I close my eyes the shadows are chased away… and I can still hear the sound of Elaine's cries as I raised my bloodied sword to the moonlight. I will never peaceful.

They've still yet to ask me how I got these bloodstains.

*        *        *        *

[Author's note: I'd like to thank Ayla Pascal for inspiring this story… you don't mind me writing about the Bloody Baron too, do you? _Check out Ayla's website. It's cool._ I have a feeling her versh of the fic is much, much better. J ]


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